Ginger
it’s warm Autumn
falling in long slow curls as it
floats down to meet a
soft grey covering.
a fair texture lies underneath
concealing sweetly laced intelligence, young
of Time’s slowly passing dial.
And still she lingers.
Kathy
My mom
sits on the porch with her feet up.
Cars lazily roll by and disjointed hands cut air
with dreadfully slow circles.
A smile crawls her way under an already
glowing pair of eyes but it’s hard to stay when
tears flow slick like rain.
Youth
We couldn’t be stopped, I promise you that
it was a time of serenity yet filled
with the cacophony of the soundless
We wanted it all, they promised us everything
but what are words but to be manipulated
by the mindless and consumed by the sightless
We hoped for the best, we promised nothing
The Woods
it happened so quickly with a snap
and followed so slowly with a thud
to be continued with a cry
and re-enforced by a crack
as his skull fractured with a break
and his soul passed silently
without a sound.
he wobbles back and forth
little feet searching for stable ground
An outstretched hand yearning
for success
jubilation! followed by the fall
he didn’t make it.
the hand retracts with failure but
there is always next time.
Why Does Your Writing Suck?
Well here is the deal: it sucks for a reason. It sucks because its not perfect and it sucks because it isn’t edited, whether it be by a peer or by me, and it sure as hell isn’t revised. I don’t re-read or re-write anything and even looking at the page makes me want to vomit. But really, why does it suck. I couldn’t tell you the real answer other than that I write it once and transfer it here. Straight to the internet to be consumed by no one. So why does my writing suck? Because I want it to.
“No effort needed,” the sign said.
But I ignored it.
I walked to the mailbox on a wind swept day
Only to be swept out to the sea by the fresh
Hand of New Autumn’s brisk tendroils
Afloat
on the sea
But effort was needed.
